


Scars

by waywardimpalawriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Body imagine, F/M, self hate, slight mention of past abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 10:09:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11079417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardimpalawriter/pseuds/waywardimpalawriter
Summary: You’d always hide behind long sleeves shirts, jeans anything to cover up the scars under nether.





	Scars

Summary: You’d always hide behind long sleeves shirts, jeans anything to cover up the scars under nether.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Body imagine, self-hate, slight mention of past abuse

Why had you forgot to do laundry, I mean really a thing so important like that. Course it didn’t help that you’d just got back from a case three states over hunting a nest of vampires. Most of your clothing smelly or blood soaked. Shaking your head, you tried to pull the sleeves down on your shirt to cover the thin healed scars marring your limbs. Imperfections in this world could have devastating results something you learned a long time ago. It’s why you kept your body covered most of the time, why you shied away when Sam or Dean tried to help patch you up. You’d learned how to take care of yourself so long ago its second nature to you now.

            Slowly making your way down to the kitchen hoping to make your way back to your room, before one of the boys spot you. Lucky wouldn’t be on your side though not today anyway. It didn’t matter that you’d been hunting with the Winchesters for going on five years now, having helped them through so much, saving the world so many times, you still felt self-conscious. Plus they’ve never seen the whole of the scars you hide, never knew the troubles you’d been through as a child and hunter.

“Mornin’ Y/N,” came Dean’s deep barely awake voice from the coffee pot.

Holding in the eep that tried to work its way from your throat, noticing he hadn’t turned around, hoping he wouldn’t. You didn’t want the man you secretly crushed on to see you like this, “Mornin.”

“Somethin’ wrong princess?” still standing in front the small table, leaning one hand on the hard wood trying to wake himself up from the last pain in the ass case they had.

“Fine, fine,” you mutter grabbing a bowel, cereal, spoon and lastly the milk trying to hurry.

To no avail, “Hey you’re wearing short sleeves?”

No answer comes, as you hurry to pour your breakfast and leave. You don’t hear Dean walk closer, seeing the scars tracing your arm. His eyes taking them in, wondering how he could’ve missed something like this.

“When did these happen?” curiosity in his deep voice.

Shaking your head, your throat tight. You knew of the scars that littered both Sam and Dean, in your mind it’s different there men, supposed to have them. Women found them sexy and desirable. But on you their just reminders of pain and torture.

Seeing you shrink back away from him, Dean tries to come up with what to say. Sam’s better at stuff like this not him. “Y/N is this why you wear long sleeves all the time?”

Nodding, you don’t turn to Dean. Not wanting to see the pity in his forest green eyes, pity you’d seen in so many sets all your life. “Childhood wasn’t the best,” is all you offer him.

Taking your left arm in his hand, he traces the pattern till it reached your elbow disappearing under the shirt sleeve. “There beautiful actually.”

Head whipped up to stare at Dean like he’s lost his mind. “You need glasses in your old age Winchester.”

Shaking his head, Dean steps back a few paces, raising his shirt to show you the various scars, depressed bullet wounds, puckered knife wounds, and assorted other wounds most that have healed over except the ones he got from the vamp nest on the last case. You suck in air, not just because of the healed wounds but the expanse of tanned taut flesh bared to your eyes. Cursing yourself for even coming up to the kitchen this morning to be both teased by Dean’s handsomeness and tormented by the pity that would show in his eyes the moment you’d look into his.

“We all have them Y/N part of being a hunter.”

Shaking your head, “For you maybe, but me,” sighing, picking up your bowel and starting towards the door. “Most men wouldn’t give me a second look with these ugly things and there not just on my arms Dean I have them everywhere.”

“Have what everywhere?” a sweat dripping Sam questioned walking into the kitchen noticing the slight tension between you and Dean. “What’d Dean do this time?”

“Really Sammy, why is it always my fault?”

“Cause it usually is,” Sam shot back catching the fact that you’re still trying to edge from the room and that you’re not wearing long sleeves. “Forget laundry this week?”

“Something like that.” you shot back barely turning to look over at the younger Winchester, still trying to tug the sleeve down hoping he won’t notice.

“If it wasn’t your fault Dean then what were y’all talking about?”

Turning quickly, eyes pleading with Dean not to say anything. “Scars.”

Lifting a brow as he walks towards the fridge to pull a cold bottle of water out, downing half in one go and wiping swear from his forehead. “What about them?”

“Y/N has them.”

“We all do,” Sam shot back looking over at you.

“Not the same,” you growl marching over to the sink to pour out your mush cereal. “Men can have scars, there ugly on women.”

Snorting, Sam taking the few steps to your side finally seeing the white lines on your arms, “Whoever told you that line of bull needs to be shot.”

“Would you two stop messing with me on this,” you explode gripping the counter in front of you. “I don’t need your pity,” you push away trying to stock off but Dean grabs your arm.

“Sweetheart, we’re telling you’re the truth here. To us you’re beautiful, scars and all. Your family for Christ sake,” his voice has a growl to it, sincerity shining in those forest eyes and something else you fail to pick up on.

“Dean’s right Y/N any man who doesn’t look past these scars and see what a beautiful, caring sweet woman you are is a fool and deserves to be knocked upside his head. It doesn’t matter what’s on the outside,” placing a warm palm just under your left breast where your heart beats quickly. “Only matter’s what’s in here and,” reaching up to tap your head. “Here.”

Shaking your head, trying to swallow the lump in your throat, “You can say that all you want Sam but you don’t have to live with these. See the looks on people’s faces when I actually do wear short sleeves. I know their judging, asking themselves what happened. Why do I have them? To this world beauty is truly only skin deep.”

Pulling away, you don’t see the flashes of shock companied with sorrow for you, never knowing you’d been going through this. Never questioning it either, just accepting the fact that you were cold natured and that’s why you wore the long sleeves.

“We should’ve asked a long time ago,” Dean stated running a hand through his thick brown hair staring after your retreating form.

“Maybe you should’ve spoke up a long time ago,” Sam countered giving him a meaning full look before heading out of the kitchen leaving Dean with his thoughts.

Midafternoon finds Dean at your door, phone in hand, he knocks twice waiting, “Y/N open up.”

You’d been lying in bed for most of the afternoon having gotten some of your clothes washed, now sporting a black flannel shirt trying to stay away from both Winchesters, especially Dean. Damn near jumping off your bed when he knocked, you think about ignoring him but don’t.

Opening the door, “What do you…” you don’t get to say more as music starts to play.

Music that’s not something Dean would normally listen to. You go from looking at his cell phone which played the beautiful song to Dean, who just smiled at you, mouthing the words, ‘Just listen.’

 

She just wants to be beautiful  
She goes unnoticed, she knows no limits  
She craves attention, she praises an image  
She prays to be sculpted by the sculptor  
Oh, she don't see the light that's shining  
Deeper than the eyes can find it, maybe we have made her blind  
So she tries to cover up her pain and cut her woes away  
Cause covergirls don't cry after their face is made

 

But there's a hope that's waiting for you in the dark  
You should know you're beautiful just the way you are  
And you don't have to change a thing  
The world could change its heart  
No scars to your beautiful, we're stars and we're beautiful  
Oh, oh, oh  
Oh-oh, oh, oh  
And you don't have to change a thing  
The world could change its heart  
No scars to your beautiful, we're stars and we're beautiful

She has dreams to be an envy, so she's starving  
You know, covergirls eat nothing  
She says "beauty is pain and there's beauty in everything"  
"What's a little bit of hunger?"  
"I can go a little while longer," she fades away  
She don't see her perfect, she don't understand she's worth it  
Or that beauty goes deeper than the surface, oh, oh  
So to all the girls that's hurting, let me be your mirror  
Help you see a little bit clearer the light that shines within

 

There's a hope that's waiting for you in the dark  
You should know you're beautiful just the way you are  
And you don't have to change a thing  
The world could change its heart  
No scars to your beautiful, we're stars and we're beautiful

 

No better you than the you that you are  
No better you than the you that you are  
No better life than the life we're living  
No better life than the life we're living  
No better time for your shine, you're a star  
No better time for your shine, you're a star  
Oh, you're beautiful, oh, you're beautiful

 

And there's a hope that's waiting for you in the dark  
You should know you're beautiful just the way you are  
And you don't have to change a thing  
The world could change its heart  
No scars to your beautiful, we're stars and we're beautiful  
And you don't have to change a thing  
The world could change its heart  
No scars to your beautiful, we're stars and we're beautiful

Once it’s over, he slides his phone into the front pocket of his jeans, “You want to know someone who’d love you for your scars I would,” capturing your face between his rough callused hands. “You’re beautiful to me inside and out. These scars,” his eyes drop down to your arms then back to your face. “There only part of who you are not all of it.”

“Dean,” breath caught in your throat you’re not sure exactly what he means by his statement or the song. “I thought you didn’t listen to music like that.”

Deep throaty chuckle leaves his lips, “I’m trying to tell you I love you and you focus on the song. Way to make a guy feel loved Y/N.”

Eyes wide, staring, “You…” swallowing hard. “Like a sister right?”

Lips pressed against your soft and slightly chapped, moving gently, tasting, teasing you at first. A peck, then another, followed by a harder kiss that has you softly moaning and participating. Arms wrapping around his neck guiding the two of you closer.

“That answer your question beautiful?” grinning, his lips still against your.

“I think I’ll need more of an answer to be sure.”

“I’m happy to oblige,” repressing his mouth to your in another heated kiss.

The topic of your scars never came up again not between you and Dean anyway or you and Sam. Some people may look at your funny since you’d taken to wearing short sleeves but, Dean would always be around to drive away any thoughts that would try to cloud your mind on the subject. 


End file.
